The clap on his shoulder shocks him out of his contemplation of the strange device, but he is hesitant to commit Essence to anything he doesn't know how it works first. Or something that is useless to him here, wherever 'here' happens to be. He casts one last glance to the Heart of the Realm, and closes the locker, trailing after Shepard, still scowling down at the thing in his hands.

"How does this thing work?" He holds up the comm device, a brow raised, his hair regaining its normal spring, naturally falling in that way around his face that is artfully unkempt, the silver streaks near his temples more evident against the nearly black of damp hair. "Do I need to commit Essence to it?" And for the first time, his confidence falters. He has no idea what he's doing here, or why, or who anyone is. Lysander generally prides himself on his ability to roll with the punches, but it's one thing to go in fully armed and on the defensive, and quite another to wake up nude and covered in goo in a strange place surrounded by strange people.

If he'd heard the phrase from Shepard's mouth a few minutes prior, he'd certainly use 'existential crisis' to describe the floundering sensation that suddenly overcomes him.